by Jaycee Clark
Outside, he could hear the traffic over on Camino De La Placitas. He hurried to his truck and breathed deep. Yes, the air foretold of the cold weather to come soon, and the rain with it.
He drove the streets over to Horizons. He didn’t see Reya’s SUV parked out front, but then she’d be the type to use the parking lots over several blocks and walk to work. Darrell better damn well be with her. He didn’t want her alone. Not for one minute.
Bells chimed when he opened the door and stepped into the cool interior of her shop. He saw Darrell sitting behind the counter, thumbing through a magazine.
He turned and relief trickled through him at the mere sight of the woman. She stood in the corner helping a customer bedecked in red pants, turquoise boots and a screaming red and black shirt. The ensemble was topped off with a turquoise hat. This was what he hated about Taos—the rich or simply dumb tourists who thought they would dress like the locals and only ended up looking like complete fools.
Reya, on the other hand, wore light deer-skin boots, dark denim jeans that encased her long, lean legs, and a tight-fitting, fawn-colored vest with crochet work holding the wide strips of leather together and decorating the buttons, hem and collar. Today, again, her arms were bare, the muscles defined even more by the silver armband she wore. And still the pendant hung from around her neck. Her hair was long and free down her back in one silken black wave.
Her eyes locked with his and a soft smile played her mouth before being replaced by a frown.
Over a thousand years and he had yet to figure the damn woman out. Some might call him slow, but he knew that where females were concerned a man could live forever, loving the same one, and still find mysteries about her after that many centuries.
He grinned and walked over to Darrell. “Any more problems?”
“None.”
“Good, keep it that way.”
He leaned against the display case at the front, looking through her selection of items, and saw nothing that really interested him. Well, he did like the cat pin. But Reya wasn’t a pin-wearing kind of woman.
When the fashion-bedecked customer paid an unholy amount of money for a pair of earrings and bracelet, he sighed in relief and waited for her to leave. The door chimed shut.
“’Bout time. How the hell do you sell to people like that?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I am not picky on what they want or how much they spend as long as they spend in my store. The more the merrier.”
A jewelry store owner, who’d have thought.
“Gallery owner,” she snapped, reading his thoughts.
He grinned, a rusted laugh chuckling out. “Semantics.”
She tapped her fingers, the short nails clicking on the counter as she asked, “Did you need something?”
Lo sighed. “Darrell, go get something to eat and drink, and bring something back for Reya.”
“I can get my own food if I want any, which I don’t, thank you very much.”
Darrell patted her shoulder and leaned close. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring you back another caramel mochachino.” He kissed her cheek.
Lo couldn’t stop the growl that purred deep in his throat. He knew about their damn weekend in the Caribbean a century ago and it still pissed the hell out of him.
Darrell grinned. “Oh, boss man, don’t worry—she’s yours. Always has been, always will be.”
Lo kept his eyes on Reya. As Darrell walked by, Lo shot his hand out and grabbed his friend by his throat. “Don’t ever kiss her again.”
Darrell laughed and ripped free of Lo’s hold. The door chimed behind him.
Arrogant prick.
Reya’s eyes bore into him. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Then why has that annoying testosterone jokester been with me since I got out of bed this morning?” She leaned over with her elbows upon the counter. The vest bunched. Unfortunately it was buttoned clear up to her throat.
“He was with you when you got out of bed this morning?” He couldn’t quite keep the growl out of his voice.
She only grinned at him.
He reached out and ran a finger down the soft lambskin, watching as his finger grazed over the swell of her breast. “He’s guarding you when I can’t be around.” He shifted his gaze back to meet laughing eyes. “Though only in certain capacities or I’ll have to rip his guts out.”
She couldn’t quite hide her purr. “Babysitter, guard, semantics.”
Lo leaned close and said quietly, “You can fight me on any number of things, and most I’d let you win, but not this.”
Her pale eyes locked with his. He saw the argument building. “I can take care of myself.”
“You won’t win.”
“You have no say in anything I do anymore, Lorenzo.”
His hand snaked out, wrapped around her neck and jerked her half over the counter. Nose to nose, he bit out. “Don’t pull that with me. You’re mine. You always have been and you always will be. Better get used to it.”
He crushed his mouth to hers, not surprised to feel the heat of her anger, then the waning as she opened her mouth and kissed him back. He slowly released her.
“I’m still mad at you for Paris.”
“Yeah, I know, and I’m still pissed at you for the men you’ve slept with since then. I could kill every one of them. Almost killed Darrell.” He didn’t think she wanted to hear how he actually had killed two, but they had deserved it after he found out they were only using her. One had been a truly sick and twisted bastard. How the hell she’d gotten mixed up with that guy, Lo would never figure out. There was a gap though. Try as he might, there was a time in her life after the last clusterfuck in Paris that was an honest blank to him. If he tried hard enough—and there had been moments last night when he had—he could catch glimpses of time, of places she’d been. Hell, he’d found out in the past what he wanted to know from others when all else failed. But the blank, that bothered him, even as he tried not to let it.
Reya sighed. “It’s not going to work, you know.”
“What won’t work?”
“Us, together. Us, we’re more like happily-never-after. It’s never worked between us, and I seriously doubt it ever will.”
Ignoring that, he said, “As I said, you won’t win. You might as well give it up.” He straightened and pulled another photo from his pocket. “I need to ask you more questions.”
She looked at the enlarged photo of the tattoo, and luckily there was no way to tell that the person it was attached to had been mauled and mutilated. Beside it he laid the picture of the bracelet.
“Wolf Moon,” she whispered. “This person is dead too, isn’t he?” Her eyes rose to his.
“Yes, a young male.”
She nodded, studying the pictures. “I dreamed of Sael last night.” She shrugged and added, “This morning. It was that night at the lake.”
Her pain rolled off her in a tidal wave and slammed into him. Lo reached over and took her hand. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to hold you.”
“I don’t know why I told you. Doesn’t matter.” She gave him half a grin and shook her head. “The past is the past and can’t be changed.”
If only it could be changed. He’d prayed and begged his own gods when he and Reya had first been separated. He’d thanked similar gods years and years later when he found her again, cursed them still when they’d allowed his family to be taken from him. Centuries later when the Spaniards swept through and converted the area, he’d prayed to the Christian’s God and had found her, had slain his enemy and yet had still lost Reya again.
But now, here they were, and he’d be damned if he’d lose her again in any way.
“I’ll have Darrell bring you out to the house tonight,” he said.
“What if I don’t want to—”
“That’s not the way it works, and you know it. You’ll be there. We need to figure out how to trap Sael.”
“How can you be sure it’s
him? You were sure he was dead. Now you’re sure he’s alive.” She stared at him. “Perhaps you’re not as all-knowing as you think.”
If he was all-knowing, he’d have already figured out how the hell to have her by his side and keep her ass there.
He felt the muscle bunch in his cheek. “The kills smell like him. The kill sites have his markings all over them.”
“So you were wrong before?”
He’d cut the bastard into pieces so he wasn’t sure how he could’ve been wrong. Shaking his head, he said, “Sael was powerful, Ree. You know that. I don’t know. Maybe he regenerated or something.”
“Maybe his evil found a host?” she guessed.
There was a terrifying thought. He grinned at her. “Have I ever told you how much I love your mind?”
She arched a brow at him.
“You’re coming to the house tonight.” He wanted to seduce her. The way she’d purred and screamed in his arms spiked through his brain in one hot rush of lust.
Reya looked at the man across from her, knew he’d only grown more powerful through the years. She was a modern, independent woman for the most part, but part of her had always been his and they came from a different time. She was his to call. She belonged to him, even if they were different. They had bonded before they were turned into shifters, bonded long after they were created. They were even blessed enough to bear a child together in love, part human, part lynx and part mountain lion.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want me there? You know it’s been so long you could choose anyone.”
Fire lit in the dark of his eyes and his features hardened. “I won’t dignify that stupid question with an answer.”
She shrugged. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”
He took a deep breath. “You do that, Reya. But remember one thing. I rule the cats in this area. If I want you there, you’ll be there. Period. The only question isn’t if, but how.”
“How?” Was he serious? The dark fire in his eyes said he was.
“How. By your own, or me forcing you.”
She knew she hadn’t been able to hide her reaction to that as well as she’d have liked. “You’d only force me once, Lorenzo Craigen. And whatever good feelings I have left for you would die. I’d leave. Forever. And I’d make damned sure you’d never find me.”
That muscle in his jaw jumped and jumped again as his lips thinned.
“Do not ever threaten me.” She caught the tremor in her voice and slammed her shields into place.
“Or?” He frowned.
She narrowed her gaze on him. “The last person who was stupid enough to threaten me, I killed.”
“Who?” he growled out.
She blinked, looked down and shook her head. “It was a long time ago. Not your concern.”
For a minute he said nothing.
Damn it, nothing like dangling a carrot in front of him, but the man could flip her switch quicker than anyone else she knew.
“We’ll see about that.”
Tension grew so thick between them she could all but taste it.
“Fine,” she conceded, not meeting his gaze. “Shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll see you tonight.”
The door chimed again, and he turned. Charles walked in smiling. “Morning, all. Did you two have a pleasant night?”
Reya glanced at him, then turned to Charles. “Well, the dinner was great, wasn’t it, Lo? But the rest of the evening was rather quiet and unmemorable.”
Anger still radiated out of him, but he smiled tightly at Charles. “And when given a remark like that? What’s a man to do other than promise that tonight will never be forgotten?”
With that, he zeroed in on her again, his hands fisted on the display case and said, “Darrell stays. Period. I ordered it.”
“I—” She started to say she didn’t have to take orders from him. A muscle ticked in his jaw and his pupils were widening. Sighing, she said, “I’ll be leaving here around six or so, probably seven. It’s a Friday night and we’re open later tonight.”
“Fine. Did you get the receipts of everyone who purchased the bracelet?”
The switch in topics stalled her for a moment. “Um…yeah. In the back, let me get them.”
She hurried into the back of the gallery, past the supply room where Mica was opening a new shipment of boxes to the office. On her desk she grabbed the envelope and decided to check and see if the artist had answered her email request about releasing the artist’s identity.
Nope.
She heard a growl and spun around. Across the hall, Mica cursed at the foam packaging she was attempting to pull from a box.
Lord, she was hearing danger in the simplest of things. She hurried over to help the undergrad.
“Sorry, why didn’t you holler for help?” Reya asked as she held the box and let Mica pull the packaging free.
“I can do everything myself, didn’t you know?” Mica, with her spiked hair and grunge wear, shrugged and straightened. The bracelets on her arms jingled. “Need anything?”
“Oh, no, I was just wondering if you’re okay, if you’re sure you don’t want to take the day off.”
Mica shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Really.”
Reya walked back out to the front of the shop. “Here.” She handed the envelope to Lo. Taking a deep breath, she couldn’t help but smell that damn spicy cologne. The man probably wore it simply because he knew it was an aphrodisiac. He stopped in mid-sentence to Charles and turned to her, a wicked smile curving the edge of his mouth.
“Sorry,” he said, turning back to Charles. “I’ve been up too long and need more coffee.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Charles walked to the back.
“Tonight,” he told her.
She licked her lips, grinned as she saw his eyes follow the movement. Shutting her mind off to him, she flipped her hair back off her shoulder and waved a hand in front of her. “Man, I shouldn’t have worn this leather vest. It is hot.” Watching his eyes narrow, she undid the top button, then the next and then another.
“That’s enough,” he strangled out. His eyes met hers and her stomach tightened at the hot look in them. He stepped closer. “I meant what I said earlier.”
“Which time?”
His breath was warm on her face. “Darrell. The fact you’re mine.” He closed the distance between them and kissed her, nothing spectacular, just his lips on hers. “And the fact that you sure as hell won’t forget tonight.”
“Promises, promises,” she taunted. Why? Because she always had to tease the lion. Idiotic, but she couldn’t help it.
When he reached the door she said, “Lorenzo?”
He looked at her with a raise of brows.
“One more thing you need to keep in mind. I’m mine. No one else’s.”
He smiled slowly until his eyes sparked and swirled with that inner soul that called to hers. His dark chuckle caressed her nerves. “Uh-huh. Tonight Ree.” He left and the bell chimed after him.
“Damn man always had to have the last word.”
Chapter Seven
The Chosen knew that the time had come. The Chosen had planned to wait until tomorrow, but things were in place. Today would work. Tonight would be perfect. The storm would hit this eve and they would have no clue where the danger came from.
Reya and Lorenzo. Merria and Lo. Regina and Lucien.
The two made The Chosen ill. What they had done… They must pay, and pay they would.
The Chosen knew impatience hindered carefully laid plans. The original plan had been to ruin Lorenzo’s reputation, strip him of his power and make his peers question him. The Chosen wanted to pin the murders on him and then at the end have him watch as The Chosen’s followers devoured Reya.
But…
Things and plans change.
The Chosen picked up the coffee cup and drank deep, knowing that tonight was the night.
This time when Reya arrived at Lorenzo’
s she could admire some things she’d missed in the dark. To be honest, she really hadn’t paid all that close attention. She’d become modern, lost in the modern world, often forgetting that she was different from everyone else. And what she was, like anything else, took discipline to master. She was like the runner who realized she hadn’t jogged in months. Or the athlete that hadn’t trained in years.
Last night she could have noticed everything she was cataloguing now, but she hadn’t. The large sprawling adobe home was like most in the area, sun-washed to a light tan, the large logs protruding from the sides, a barn set off from the back of the house and two horses were standing in the paddock. She could see the black snake of the gorge in the distance. No Dodge truck, no Lo. Someone sat on the porch.
When she and Darrell got out, she didn’t recognize the woman.
Darrell spoke up. “Dena, this is Reya.”
Dena stood, was on the short side, muscular and didn’t look like she smiled much.
“Reya, as in the Reya?” A humorless smile flitted over her mouth. “Well, isn’t it nice to finally meet you?”
Reya frowned.
“Ignore her. She’s just jealous because Lo never paid attention to her other than to notice she was great at her job.”
Oh. “And what job would that be?”
“Protecting your ungrateful ass,” the woman shot back.
“Joy. Friends and enemies, they’re always so damn tangled.” Feeling her anger rise at the rude woman and really not wanting to waste the energy, she opened the front door and strolled into the house as if she owned the place.
Lo wanted her to be here. You’re mine. You always have been. You always will be.
Fine. She was his. She’d just make damn certain that this time he understood that was a two-freaking-way street.
She tossed her purse onto the entry table and carried her bag into his room, Darrell following close behind. She heard Dena’s mumbled “Bitch.”
“Is she always so friendly?” She opened the closet, opened the dresser to find it was half empty. She looked over her shoulder at Darrell.
“Hey, don’t look at me. He’s known where you were for years. Why the hell do you think we moved back here?”